My Eyes Are Open (My Heart Is Closing)
by Lizicia
Summary: 'It's not until she's weighing the gun in her hand – she can almost feel the strings attached to it – that she works out why she doesn't want to work for McQuaid. It's not really about patriotism or serving her country. It's about her.' Annie-centric, post-5x03, with a side of McQuaid and a side of Eyal.


**A/N: Well, hello there! I haven't done this in a while but I have two important reasons for writing _CA_ again. Firstly, Ryan McQuaid. I know he's supposed to be Annie's new love interest but...let me explain why I think not, with this story. And, secondly, Eyal is coming back next episode! My heart is joyful.**

**Follows 5x03. Title is from Ellie Goulding's _I Need Your Love_.**

**Disclaimer: Despite Oded Fehr returning, still don't own it.**

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„_So you lied to a dying man? That's a pretty dark move, Walker."_

„_I did what needed to be done."_

„_That wasn't a criticism. That was a compliment."_

Annie didn't understand it at first, didn't pay attention to it but something about McQuaid's words rubbed her the wrong way. It shouldn't have; she had told the truth. It was necessary to tell Boris the lie about Oksana, if only to complete her mission, to get the intel she had traveled to Venezuela for, to not fail. And he hadn't criticized but complimented her skills, her ingenuity, her quick thinking when interrogating a man who was already dead but still had enough heart left to think of his sister. Still, there was something nagging at her and she couldn't quite figure out what.

When they stop in Bucaramanga, halfway between Cúcuta and Medellín, he buys them empanadas and they sit on the side of the road, watching the bus driver smoke his break away. Children give them curious glances and hesitant waves across the road and Annie responds half-heartedly, still thinking of the look of gratitude in Boris' eyes when she promised him to take care of Oksana. They were once children like this as well, innocent, caring, without a trouble in the world. Two brothers and a sister who would die for their beliefs.

"I think this might be the most difficult first date I've ever been on."

McQuaid's words shake her out of her musings and she gives him an incredulous look; the words seem so wrong for her mood but he doesn't seem to notice and smiles. "I mean, tracking down a hostage in Caracas, then trying to get same hostage over the border to Colombia, getting caught on the border, being holed in at some god awful house in Caracas, and finally riding a bus over the border. And now, here we are, in beautiful Bucaramanga, having the most delicious empanadas. You really are hard to get, Annie Walker, and _that_ is a compliment."

His moves and lines are blatantly obvious but also eerily reminiscent of someone else. Still, she can't shake her previous thoughts and almost resents him for being so carefree about all of it. "This is not a date. This is eating empanadas on the side of the road while trying to make it to Medellín. This is just food which we happen to be sharing."

He smiles and offers her the Coke they're sharing. "Oh, don't be like that. Let me have some leeway. It is a beautiful afternoon, the sun is shining, the air is fresh, the food delicious."

Against her wishes, her mouth curls up in a tiny smile but she tries to hide it as quickly as she can. She's just not quick enough.

"Aha, I knew you were enjoying this."

This merely earns him an eye-roll and she looks back towards the children but they've disappeared somewhere when she wasn't looking. "What I'm enjoying is food, no matter how highly you value your own company."

"But I am very good company, wouldn't you say so?"

Annie shakes her head but doesn't give an answer.

"If this isn't a date, then let's talk business. I'm still not convinced you're sure about staying on with Langley. Think about it – you could do exactly what you're doing now but for bigger pay and with greater toys for a greater reach. I bet they never have anyone to help you cross borders safely."

"I'm not going to work for you."

"Oh, come on. You could work _with_ me, you would enjoy it and you know it. No more cheap hole-in-the-wall accommodation, traveling in economy, but all the money in the world and no pesky protocols."

"Why are you so set on this?"

His demeanor becomes a bit more serious as he eyes her carefully and appreciatively. "Because you are a fine agent. I'm familiar with your history, with your missions. You have the guts to think with your head, not only follow orders, you take risks but they pay off. You're very instinctive about your work and you care about more than rules and regulations and protocols. And, like you demonstrated in Caracas, you are not afraid to play a bit dirty if necessary. I think your talent is wasted at Langley."

_What is it with you and always checking in? Don't, it feels good and you should try it._ The words that come to haunt her were said years ago, or what feels like eons ago, and she is suddenly uncomfortable with his praise.

"I did what had to be done." But, truthfully, she doesn't quite believe her own words anymore.

McQuaid is unperturbed and doesn't notice the bitterness in her words. "Yeah, I know. And that's why you need to be working with me."

She stands and gives him a reproachful look. "You know, I take it back. I was enjoying this a lot more when this was a _date_." The emphasis she puts on the word makes it clear that this still isn't a date.

He laughs openly at that and stands too, not letting her out of his sight. "I'll wine and dine you anyway you like as soon as we get back to D.C."

The man is an incorrigible flirt and she's reminded of a certain foreign operative who was just like this the first time they met. But the comparison doesn't feel quite right; it feels forced and she doesn't quite know why. But she knows that there is no real temptation for her to actually go on a date with McQuaid.

"Not happening. The date or the job."

Annie has a feeling he won't stop pestering her in either regard.

In Medellín they meet up with their respective people. He gives her a mock salute in front of his private jet but she doesn't feel even the slightest bit of regret when she takes her seat in the Langley-issued commercial plane. She is a patriot, she serves her country and despite everything he's said, working at McQuaid Security will not be just like working at Langley. It will be different and not just because of the money.

It's not until she's weighing the gun in her hand – she can almost feel the strings attached to it – that she works out why she doesn't want to work for McQuaid. It's not really about patriotism or serving her country. It's about her.

It's about the fact that when she told him she did what needed to be done, she didn't believe in it herself. She felt wrong saying it but he backed her up, he agreed with her and it left a stain on her heart. She didn't want her methods to be validated; a small part of her wanted to be questioned, to be argued with, to be told that she was wrong. She is not this person that doesn't care, or is she really becoming cold and calculating and cruel?

Her hands start to shake as the thought enters her head and she puts the gun down, breathing deeply and thoroughly. Her chest doesn't feel like needles, so she focuses on her breathing. She wasn't lying about the myocarditis, a reminder of her death, something she will never get rid of.

And just like that, as she thinks of her death, she knows with acute certainty why she never felt like she connected with McQuaid. He tried, oh, he tried so hard, and he will keep trying but he lacked the honesty she's come to expect of the people surrounding her. He was feeding her lines, telling her what he thought she wanted to hear, with no regard for what she needed to hear. The comparison which comes to mind is startling but once it's in her head, there is no keeping it at bay – she realizes that she wanted him to be like Eyal and he came up short.

Eyal would've never told her she made the right choice this flippantly, this matter-of-factly. He would've asked her what she thought of her actions, how she felt. He wouldn't have criticized her methods either but he would've heard the doubt in her voice, the tendrils of embarrassment, the heat of shame she had felt, and he would've known to listen before opening his mouth. McQuaid rushed in, head first, like he's probably used to, and she, in turn, couldn't trust him like that.

She knows it's unfair to expect someone that doesn't know her at all to understand her needs just as well as someone who's one of the closest people to her true heart. But she can't also even begin to trust McQuaid if he has this little soul, if he continues to feed into the darkest parts of her, without any regard for who she really is, for who she wants to be.

_Neshema._ She remembers the word, at first granted probably as a joke, but then with more meaning every time they met. She is never quite sure what Eyal means by it, how seriously he takes it – though, when she really allows herself to ask, she does know, and that scares her more than dying did – but for her, it serves as a reminder that not all is lost. It would be so easy to get lost in herself, to forget everything she's ever been but she won't let that happen.

So McQuaid can flirt all he wants, can feed her lines, can in some ways remind her of Eyal when she didn't quite know or trust him – with the flirting and the smiles and the blatant interest in her – but she also realizes that he can never become this important to her. He would urge the darkness in her to rise even more, would urge her to be cold and practical and efficient, to lose her empathy which Eyal once called her greatest asset. McQuaid wouldn't know to put any value in that.

She's already seen how he operates – he left her behind in Caracas, hand-cuffed and in police custody, tossed her phone and just went off. He would probably leave her in a Russian prison, just to save his own skin, never come back for her, even less come specifically _for _her. Maybe she's unfair to him because these were extenuating circumstances, they were both angling for the same prize, willing to do whatever it takes.

But she thinks of Paris and Salma and the Syrians and knows that even extenuating circumstances didn't stand in the way of her trust in Eyal. And this troubles her because just like McQuaid would never save her, she also wouldn't share any intel with him, wouldn't willingly give up anything she's gathered because she'll always feel the need to compete. He makes her want to destroy him and that is something she really shouldn't accept.

He can be charming and smiling and probably thinks his game is solid, thinks he'll persevere at one point because she can't resist his charm. But how could she ever let him know her, really know her when someone else already has the monopoly on that?

And to solidify her thoughts, she picks up her phone and dials the number carefully memorized, not written down anywhere. She waits as it rings and rings and finally hears the words she's been really waiting for.

"_Shalom,_ _neshema._"

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**A/N: I have no clue what will happen in the next episode, or what sort of a role Eyal will play, so I tried not to infringe on any possibilities right about now.**

**Maybe you agree with my analysis of McQuaid or maybe not; either way, do let me know.**


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